


Live III

by Servetolive



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Gay Male Fucking a Female, Sexual Slavery, Slave Maintenance, Tumblr Fic, Unbeta'd, Vaginal Fisting, Voyeurism, cam sex, drunk author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: Lal finds it harder and harder to fight back.





	Live III

**Author's Note:**

> I was wasted and sleepy when I wrote this. Still love it tho

listening to deftones and drinking and like, y u m. slave maintenance, blow jobs, fingering, fisting, angst, etc.

* * *

 

  
The door opened, and he called her name. He didn’t even have to descend from the steps: she knew to crawl forward until her chain could give no more, and wait for the command he would give to free her.

He hadn’t needed to use The Weapon on her in weeks.

The end of her heavy leash collapsed in a coil before her. She looked up at his shadowy figure, illuminated only by the light behind him, and took the chains in her hands. 

Behind her, her relatives were quiet as she cautiously clambered to her feet, walked up the steps, and offered the end of the chain to Maddox.

He took it from her. At this short range, she could see his face, but even after all these months, she had trouble reading him. 

Was it because of her own limitations?

She didn’t even bother to look behind her at Data and Lore before she lowered her head and followed him up on all fours.

* * *

 

  
He bathed her himself, after affixing the spider gag to her mouth, shoving her head down into the bath of lukewarm water, and pulling her back up to lather a honey-scented soap into her hair. 

He was a man of few words, she realized, and it was just as well: what would an efficient master have to say to a slave who couldn’t respond anyway?

He dunked her again. She opened her eyes, watching the school of bubbles her open mouth breathed life into scatter around her face, tasting the bitter soap.

She coughed hard when he pulled her up, trying as best as she could to clear her cooling cavity of the water.

He held her up from behind, pinching her nose, ordering her to “blow” to free her ear canal of any water she had taken on.

While she obeyed, she glanced at him in the mirror. How could such a tiny, skinny man have her in the palm of his hands?

He dried her roughly, squeezing the moisture out of her her hair with a towel, and running his hands roughly through them. Her head jerked back when he hit a snag.

To her side, near the toilet, B4 sat quietly, observing, a similar bit affixed to his mouth. Funny–she never imagined that he would need one in Maddox’s presence.

Maddox left them both there as he fetched a blow dryer and sat in his bed with his legs open. She was staring at her uncle, considering his disposition when Maddox snapped his fingers and gestured for her to place herself between his thighs.

He raked his fingers through her hair as the hot air blew through it. This was her favorite part. He was not particularly gentle with her, nor did he care to make sure he didn’t burn her, but she found a strange comfort in leaning her head against the edge of the bed quietly, allowing him to turn her this way and that.

She was tired of fighting.

Afterwards, he called her back to the bathroom, and sat on the toilet while she lay across his lap, bonelessly. B4 handed him a pair of beauty scissors, and he neatly trimmed the small triangle of hair on her pubic bone that he had ordered her to grow at her clients’ request.

Her head fell backward over his knees, and she stared at the endless whiteness of the tub.

“So pretty,” he sighed finally. “There are plenty of those who want to buy you, you know? They’ve offered ridiculous amounts.”

As if she had replied or made a noise at all, Maddox stopped snipping and chuckled softly, pulling her up so that he could examine her face.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered to her as he pulled down the lower lids of her eyes one by one, and checked into her nostrils. “I told them that you’re not for sale.”

He called B4 over to him, and the Idiot scampered on his legs before him to receive Lal as he dumped her into his arms.

“Inspect her.”

As an afterthought, he reached down and undid his gag. Obediently, B4 waited until it fell into his lap before he handed it to him.

* * *

 

  
“Be nice this time, Baby Girl,” B4 advised as he finished smoothing lotion over her upper arms and legs. “No bad words. No snapping. No angry face.”

Lal glared at him, as neutrally as she could.

“No, not like that,” B4 scolded. “You’re still angry. Make him like you.”

Lal truly had no desire to do such a thing. She wondered how her positronic mind could differ so much from B4′s that it would be a viable option for him.

B4 removed her bit momentarily to apply makeup to her face. It was not an easy process for him, and several times, as she watched herself in the mirror, she wanted nothing more than to snatch the brush away from him and try to blend the dark shades into her eyelids herself. He was making a mess.

“Uncle,” she said quietly, glancing at them sidelong in the mirror. “You’re doing it wro–”

“Ssh,” he said, frowning, “Baby Girl, I can’t focus when you talk.”

Lal relaxed back onto her haunches. He was making a mess of her face, and she didn’t know why she cared.

Maddox, dressed in a nice clean shirt, turned the corner into his restroom, filling Lal with a momentary pang of dread that she resented more than she did B4.

“You’re taking forever, B. Here, move.” He took Lal’s chin in his hands, blew into her face to remove the excess powder, and–to her surprise–gave her a pass.

“She’s fine.” As she looked up at him with shining eyes, one of his thumbs slid into the corner of her mouth and out, smearing the red on her lips into a line down her chin, like dripping blood.

“I hate you,” she whispered as one tear fell, causing a dark trail of mascara to mark her right cheek.

In response, Maddox pushed his thumb past her teeth to open her mouth, and spat directly into it. Lal swallowed the foul organic material, forcibly.

“Better than fine, I think,” he added with a smirk.

He dressed her in simple lace, belts, no shoes. He often admired the arch of her feet in stockings; he had once commented on how the garments took away any semblance of digits or other features that gave her metallic body a more human appeal. He liked how she came off as a living mannequin.

* * *

 

  
When he led her to the Viewing Room, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened. She hated performing in front of living, breathing people who could touch her and pull at her breasts and pluck at the lips of her cunt as if she were no more than a piece of meat.

Then again, guests who required her presence in absentia asked her to perform terrible, unspeakable acts.

The screens were off, and there was silence. But like the pupils of Maddox’s grey eyes, the camera zoomed in and focused on her as he sat down, yanking her leash and pulling him with her.

The Weapon lay within a half-arm’s reach, next to his clothed thigh.

“Go ahead and bite me, honey,” he purred into her mouth as he leaned down. “I dare you.”

She was ungagged and could have done whatever she wanted with her teeth, but she remembered the way it felt to be shocked: the searing sensation tearing through her systems, shutting down her processes one by one, or the foul taste of her bioplast burning if he decided to subdue her with _Lethal._

She opened her jaw and let his tongue slide into her mouth, his hand caressing her neck and the side of her face. Above them, she heard the camera whirr.

In the back of her mind, there was always the desire to reach up and push him away, slap him, punch him, drive a finger into his eye and all the way to the back of his skull. Her teeth ached with the desire to sink into his bottom lip and pull away, watching the skin and sinew snap apart as blood poured between the two of them. 

It was like he could see into hher mind; like he was one of them. As soon as she felt those impulses, his other hand came up between her legs, fingers parting her outer lips and slipping into her tight cunt, working her open as if she were a virgin all over again.

And then she would gasp, overcome by her conflicting arousal, and her hand would jump up to his shoulder. She would work her jaw into his, grind her hips down onto his fingers, dripping wet.

“You’re a lot like me, you know,” he said to her, stopping to run his tongue upside her lips as she quivered at his touch, her eyes closed and her head back. He inserted his two fingers all the way inside her, smiling as she cried out, touching the little spot that she had discovered on her own years ago. 

“You think you prefer one thing. Until you have something else, that is.”

Gasping, Lal lifted her head, taking a glance at the way his wrist disappeared up into her.

“You… don’t know… what you’re talking about,” she said, meekly, shivering from the shocks of arousal. It was a moot point: she knew he could indicate her drooling pussy, the blush in her cheeks, the her rising body temperature, and in his mind–and the mind of the muted viewers–he would win.

With one hand still working inside of her, adding one finger after another, he pulled her up so that she straddled him, her back to the camera. 

“Maybe I don’t,” he breathed, pressing the pad of his thumb into her clit harshly. She groaned through gritted teeth as fluid trickled around his fingers and splattered onto the ground. “But _this_  does.”

Helpless against the pleasure, Lal tried to shake her head away to dispel her emotional disorientation.

“You’re so much like Lore,” he crooned into her neck, his low voice vibrating against her bioplast. “It’s insane.”

In another reality, she would feel some sense of muted pride at that comment. She would pipe up and say, “I _am_ my uncle,” and consider all the different ways his strength rebelliousness had influenced her and the way she navigated the vast, unwelcoming universe.

But it didn’t mean anything here, under Maddox’s hand. 

She made the thoughts about her uncle–and her father, by proxy–fade away as she let Maddox fuck her with his hand.

* * *

  
He could always tell when one of his charges was about to cum; they all had different “almost” faces, as B4 had taken to calling it.

With Lal, she often straightened her back, letting her head roll around on her neck, closing her eyes, only _just_  allowing herself to let go of who she really was to allow herself to be in the moment with this monster; to allow herself to feel what he wanted her to feel, before he pulled away from her and ordered her into another position.

“Down on your knees, bitch,” Maddox said, pulling himself out of his shirt.

She sighed too loudly, too desperately for her own tastes. “Goddamn it,” she breathed.

Maddox casually slapped her hard in the back of her head, and then kicked her feet from underneath her. She fell down on all fours in front of him, about to collapse in tears.

“What do you _want_ from me?!” She asked when she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

Maddox returned the look, unsympathetically, and snapped his fingers, pointing at the ground between his legs.

As soon as she obeyed, Maddox affixed her gag to her mouth. 

“I can’t even trust you to keep your fucking mouth shut,” he sighed, snapping the buckle on harshly, causing her to wince. “One of these days, you’re going to end up with no teeth: just like your uncle.”

The camera buzzed and moved around on its arm, extending its lens to get a proper look of Lal’s teary eyes and her open mouth against the crotch of Maddox’s pants.

“When are you going to understand,” he said as he pulled his zipper down and freed his cock from his slacks, “That I’m all you have?”

He took himself by the base and gave her two, hard swats against her bottom lip with the tip of his dick. “Hm?”

The first few times she sucked him off, she tried to think about what it was like with her past lovers. Laren. The one, clumsy time with Deanna. They were pleasant memories that were pushed away further and further by her experiences with Maddox.

Now, she was like Pavlov’s Dog. She saw his cock and drooled, her pussy doing the same, as all she could think about was its proper place: filling her cunt, displacing all of the lubricating fluid inside of her, pumping it out.

She moved her mouth over the organ and sucked, exactly as Maddox would have it. He sucked in his breath, placed a hand on her head, looked her in the eye as she tried to reach the back of her throat with it.

A single tear surprised her by falling out of the corner of her left eye, making a wet, dark trail in her foundation.

Maddox purred at her softly, his hand smoothing the part in her hair.

Another tear in the opposite eye followed as Maddox moved his hips up into her mouth, nearly shoving his cock down her throat.

The camera lens made another sound as it hovered above them.

“Look at those tears,” he said, sweeping one away with a thumb. “One would think you didn’t want to serve your master,” he said.

She didn’t know what made her cry that time. They were doing nothing special. 

She ran her tongue along the underside, stopping at the balls. She wanted to lick those too, but her mask got in the way. 

She looked to Maddox for help.

Maddox, whose head was leaning against a propped up elbow, smiled down on her.

“You look ready now, Baby Girl,” he said, as he unhooked her gag.


End file.
